


Sentiment

by nangka



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Pillow Talk, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Friendship, Storytelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 03:22:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3634773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nangka/pseuds/nangka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After realizing he doesn't know much about Dalish culture or Lavellan's clan, Dorian finally asks Lavellan about them.  It seems Tevinter tales of Dalish elves are as accurate as ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sentiment

"We never talk about your clan." Dorian says, and he knows he could have used a smother transition, but it's a topic he's been thinking about ever since Lavellan told a story about his clan during a game of Wicked Grace almost a week ago. “Or much about the Dalish.”  
  
It’s an opportune time to bring it up, though, the both of them lying naked in Lavellan’s bed, relaxing and enjoying an intimate private moment. Somehow more personal questions and topics become easier to discuss when they’re like this. Maybe because they’re they’re less guarded, physically and mentally. In this bedroom they’ve discussed things that have left him emotionally raw, things that have filled him with joy, and things that cannot be described by words alone.  
  
“Sera and Solas make it sound like the Dalish can’t stop talking about themselves, but here you are, and I rarely get anything about them out of you.” Dorian can tell the question surprises Lavellan, seeing him sit up in bed now. “Telling me random trivia about halla and nature don’t count.”  
  
“Solas and Sera haven’t had the best experience with the Dalish.” Dorian laughs at Lavellan’s polite phrasing.  
  
“Exactly, so thinking they’re a credible source alone would go against everything I’ve learned as an academic.” He sits up now, their shoulders bumping into each other.  
  
“So this is strictly academic?” With that sarcastic tone, Dorian knows he hasn’t made Lavellan uncomfortable, but now he’s curious about the possible reasons Lavellan has avoided the topic.  
  
“Nothing is ever just strictly academic, Amatus.” Lavellan’s sarcasm is always something Dorian finds charming about him. “While I do enjoy talking about myself, It’s always me and Tevinter, my homeland and culture. I’ve told you countless of things about Tevinter, but you never return the favor.” Of course he’s joking about that last part, but he can tell by his lover’s reaction his words have affected him.  
  
“You’re right, it’s unfair when you put it that way.” Yet Dorian sees how his lips are slowly curving upwards. “All right, we can talk about the Dalish and my clan if you want.”  
  
“That’s it? No demands? No probing with why I would ask such a thing?” This almost seems to easy.  
  
“You’re curious,” he notices the way the other man’s eyes are looking, and that’s look when he’s trying to figure out if this is some ‘human’ thing or a ‘Dorian’ thing. “Is there a motive I’m unaware of? A bet between you and Varric? You’ve already lost enough coin to him.”  
  
Dorian groans at the mention of the loss of coin, gesturing with his hands to emphasize his point. “The bet with the nugs does not count, Amatus, that wasn’t a fun way of losing money.” He can’t help but be defensive about that part, but that goes away. “And I won’t deny it, Varric does have something to do with it.”  
  
“Oh?” He knows with that response his lover is waiting on more than just a few words.  
  
“That one time during Wicked Grace, when you talked about your clan.” He can feel Lavellan lean against him, and he wonders if it’s his way of assuring or comforting him. Maybe it’s just mindless affection, which Dorian is completely fine with. “It was the first time I heard you talk about them besides some offhanded comment or a random fact about the Dalish when you talk to Solas.”  
  
“Was it?” He doesn’t sound coy or indirect when he asks, but instead, it’s more like a lack of self awareness. Maybe Lavellan really hasn’t noticed, and from what he’s heard, most people ask him about riding halla, strange stereotypes and myths about the Dalish, or the markings on his face.  
  
“It was.” When Dorian replies, there’s a hint of somberness underlying his words.  
  
“It’s not intentional.” Lavellan moves his hand to hold Dorian’s, their fingers lacing together. Their eye contact ends, Lavellan looking down at their hands. “I’m not used to talking about my clan with others. Everyone knew about each other in our clan, and for a while, I thought most Dalish clans were like mine.” He picks up hesitance in his voice, and he’s tempted to say something, but he holds back.  
  
“Early on, maybe a few days after the Inquisition was declared, Josephine asked me about what life before the conclave was like for me. I wasn’t sure how to describe it, and I barely knew what life was like for anyone who wasn’t Dalish, so comparing made it difficult.” Lavellan looks at him (gauging a reaction, maybe?), a small smile. “So telling people about the Dalish, telling them about my clan, it’s not something I’m very good at. For a long time I thought I would end up being a Keeper, trying to preserve the old ways and avoid humans, but look how that turned out.”  
  
“Oh yes, look how that turned out. Now you’ve got a whole rabid following of humans depending on you.” He hopes the attempt at humor will lighten the mood. Not that he would dread a serious conversation, but he wants to keep it comfortable for Lavellan.  
  
“You jest, but it’s true.” Lavellan groans as he speaks, knowing Dorian is being sarcastic, but it’s still a reminder.  
  
“I jest because I know it’s very true, and all we can do is laugh sometimes because alternative options are not nearly as flattering.” Dorian’s charming smile works its own magic, causing Lavellan to smile i return. “You look much more handsome when you smile. You wear happiness much better than bored and stressed out.”  
  
“Compliments, I know that tactic.” It seems Lavellan is calling him out, and rather early, too. “I know what you’re trying to do.”  
  
“Tactic? I’m merely just stating the obvious anyone with eyes can see.” They both know they’re playing a game, all for fun and laughs. “What do you think I’m trying to do to our most precious Inquisitor?” After he says that, he watches Lavellan’s facial expression carefully as the elf doesn’t respond right away.  
  
“Softening me up.” Lavellan finally says, but that smile is still there.

  
“Is it working?” Dorian smirks after asking, moving his head and fixing his posture so their lips almost brush against each other.  
  
“Do you even have to ask?” After Lavellan asks him that, Dorian kisses him, and well, Lavellan doesn’t hesitate a single second to kiss him back. This kiss could easily lead to more things, things Dorian would not mind doing at all, but then he remembers his initial inquiry.  
  
“Oh you’re _good_ , very good.” Dorian says after breaking the kiss, his breathing slightly heavier than before.  
  
“You’re better at kissing.” Lavellan knows that’s not what Dorian means, but he can’t resist.  
  
“I can’t disagree with that, not that you’re terrible, but you know that’s not what I meant.” He pulls his face back. “You’re distracting me.”  
  
“And usually you’re the one who offers to distract me when we’re in my quarters.” It’s easy for Dorian to recall many intimate moments they’ve spent in this room when Lavellan mentions it.  
  
“The good sort of distraction, though.” And it seems Lavellan is recalling memories, too, when Dorian makes adds to the commentary.  
  
“That kissing a moment ago wasn’t a good distraction?” The smirk, that confident look, they both know Lavellan has won this round.  
  
“Touché, Amatus.” Dorian concedes defeat, giving Lavellan a peck on the lips to formally admit defeat. “It was, but back to our original topic at hand.”  
  
“Fine, you caught me.” Lavellan’s voice changes, sounding more unsure than the previous confident it was before. “I was trying to buy time so I could think of what sort of story I should tell you.”  
  
“Any. It’s not like this is the only opportunity you’ll ever have to discuss about them with me. Unless, of course, you wish not discuss them.” Dorian is cautious about prying, knowing many reasons why people keep things to themselves.  
  
“It’s not that. I mean, not wanting to discuss them.” Lavellan pauses, trying to correct his phrasing. “All the stories you tell me about Tevinter, Dorian, you make it sound exciting, glamorous, thrilling -- much different than most things I’ve heard about Tevinter.”  
  
“I could say the same about the Dalish, but like I said before, my sources are quite biased and I claim ignorance openly about actual Dalish culture.” That gets a laugh out of Lavellan when he says that.  
  
“I was trying to think of a story that matches how exciting and detailed your stories are, but my pale in comparison.” A defeated sigh comes from Lavellan, his words showing insecurity.  
  
“I doubt that. Trust me, I could tell you many stories of me spending days trying to figure out poorly translated text, not sleeping for days in preparation for an exam, or how I’ve tried almost every mnemonic trick in existence so I could recall all the familial bloodlines.” Dorian tries to reassure him, but he still doesn’t want to press too hard. He’s listened to plenty of boring lectures and boasts from magisters. He doubts whatever Lavellan will tell him can beat that.     
  
“I suppose I could tell you about the time I asked Keeper for a dog.” When Dorian hears that from him, he notices his lover is starting to feel a bit more comfortable with their conversation.  
  
“A dog? And I thought even the Dalish had better taste than Fereldens.” He jokes, hoping to relax Lavellan even more.    
  
“I was barely a teenager back then, newly apprenticed to our Keeper. I didn’t even know what a cat looked like until years later.” It’s time like these he realizes how differently Lavellan grew up compared to him.  
  
“What? Really?” Dorian asks without thinking too much about it. Maybe if he thought about it more, it would seem less strange.  
  
“You don’t see many stray cats in dense forests, let alone humans willing to take their pet cats along. Most of the dogs we saw came alongside humans that traded with our clan, and those dogs were for hunting and protection rather than companionship alone.” Dorian nods as his lover explains, and that does make a lot of sense.  
  
“That makes sense, but still, why a dog? Don’t tell me you’re into drooling messes? Is that we’re in Ferelden so much? Don’t tel me you _actually_ like it there.” Even with understanding the logic, he can tell he’s put Lavellan in an awkward spot, so he uses humor again.  
  
“Being apprenticed to the Keeper, I didn’t get many chances to interact and have fun like the other children in my clan. Of course I knew them, spent time with them, but I spent much more time with Keeper than even my own parents.”  
  
“Your parents allowed that?” Dorian’s tone isn’t accusatory, rather it’s almost curious. He didn’t know this about the Dalish, but he barely knows what family life is like for the Dalish.  
  
“Yes. It’s an honor, and one of my parents, I think my mother, had an aunt or uncle with magical abilities.” Lavellan saying that, he can’t help but compare what he knows of Tevinter to what he’s being told. Maybe it’s to help him understand better because he’s not used to being so ignorant in something. With all his knowledge, he’s used to pulling up previous knowledge to at least fill in some gaps.  
  
“Don’t get me wrong, it is much better than getting locked up in these Southern circles. It just got me thinking, that even the Dalish and value magic to that degree, just like we do in Tevinter. I’ve spent more time with teachers and mentors than my own parents, I think.” He thinks back to his parents, how he tried pleasing his father for attention and admiration. “Felix being close to his father, it isn’t the norm.” Felix was loved by his parents no matter what, Dorian remembers that. “I learned that early on.” Lavellan must have picked up the underlying sadness as Dorian can see his lover’s face soften, his eyes flash with compassion.  
  
“We’re all very close, members of our clan. I think we know too much about each other at times. You could ask some random person in my clan who my first crush was, and I’m pretty sure they could give you a name and show you where they are.” Dorian’s glad the attention is back on Lavellan as the topic was becoming a little too dreary for something uplifting.  
  
“And who was your first crush? What were they like?” Dorian can’t help but tease, winking as he does so.  
  
“Are you seriously asking me this, Dorian?” Lavellan’s reaction is priceless, and he can’t help but laugh.  
  
“Not at first, but with that reaction, now I am being serious because I think it’s going to be entertaining.” He knows this might be pushing it, but the payoff would be easily worth it.  
  
“You,” Lavellan’s eyes, even as beautiful as they are, look rather deadly when he says that. “Ellana was her name, the daughter of one of our best hunters. She was the best at finding rare herbs, so she would often get them for Keeper. That meant I saw her a lot, and sometimes we went together to collect herbs.” At least he doesn’t sound as defensive as before when he starts to tell him. Dorian assumes it’s due to recalling happy memories, indulging in nostalgia. “I upset her once, by accident, and she shot an arrow at me. She said she missed on purpose, and I believed her.”  
  
“Well, that was an unexpected plot twist. What did you accidentally do?” A young mage and their first crush, so many thing could go wrong.  
  
“I froze her hand.” He’s too baffled to find this story amusing.  
  
“And how did that happen, pray tell?” Dorian starts to think of all the possible ways -- none of them are good.  
  
“I was nervous. My hands were sweaty, and she went to grab my hand, and well... it took two weeks for it to heal properly ” That awkwardness is settling back in, and he doesn’t mean to make him feel that way, but Dorian was expecting to hear something cute and silly rather than something to do with bodily harm.  
  
“Wait, she shot an arrow at you, claimed she missed, and she had an injured hand.” He’s trying to add this up. He might not be an expert in archery, but Dorian knows it takes two hands to shoot a bow.  
  
“You don’t know Ellana.” Dorian starts to wonder if Lavellan has a knack for attracting strong women, especially since the evidence of the other members of Lavellan’s inner circle point to this.    
  
“Apparently not, but I know that must have not been easy or without pain.”  
  
“She was... very upset at the time.” With the way Lavellan voices the word upset, Dorian has a feeling that’s an understatement.  
  
“Did you tell her it was an accident?” He’s genuinely concerned for him, even if this Elven woman is nowhere near them now. “A woman’s scorn is a rather scary thing.” He only needs his mother as a reminder of that.  
  
“I did when I apologized. I couldn’t face her for at least a week, the Keeper making me apologize. By that time, though, she was starting to fall in love with another in our clan. She forgave me quickly, even thanking me, as she wouldn’t have met her future husband.”  
  
“And how did you soothe your own heartbreak?” He hopes Lavellan’s story ends on a happy note, as it sounds like he’s not to bitter or upset by it.  
  
“I don’t think I was too heartbroken about it, mostly relieved Ellana wasn’t going to shoot arrows at me for the rest of my life.” And he can see the actual relief when his lover speaks, his shoulders relaxing.  
  
“And look at you now, hundreds of people are shooting arrows at you constantly, wishing you a painful death without freezing their hand.” Sarcasm is always a good way to tie things up, at least Dorian thinks so.  
  
“ _Anyway_ , back to me wanting a dog.” He catches Lavellan actually rolling his eyes at him, at that joke.  
  
“Oh, right, that.” Not that Dorian forgot.  
  
“I was rather lonely during my early apprenticeship. That and Keeper told me a story about Fen’Harel, and he scared me.” Things go back to being serious, but it’s not a solemn sort of serious, more like a focused one.  
  
“The trickster god, correct?” He’s familiar with some of the gods of Lavellan; he might actually know more about ancient Elven culture than Dalish cutlure (and that’s saying something).  
  
“Yes. Keeper told me a story about how he would haunt dreams of Keepers, trying to trick them. Yet the one thing that kept Fen’Harel away were dogs of all things. I told Keeper I wanted a dog, but I wouldn’t admit I was scared of Fen’Harel at the time. She saw through that, though.”  
  
“So did you receive a dog?” Lavellans seems to love nature and most, if not all, all the animals they encounter. This makes causes Dorian to speculate Lavellan must have had a dog as a pet.  
  
“No, she claimed I wasn’t ready to own a dog at the time.”  
  
“I have the feeling you didn’t take that well? I remember as a child, I could be quite the brat.” He doesn’t expect that response from him. Maybe dogs are treated in a special way? He could speculate more, but their conversation continues.  
  
“I didn’t, bet she made a deal with one of the humans who came by, letting me spend some time with his Mabari.” Lavellan’s left eye winces, and that makes Dorian assume things didn’t go well during that trial period.  
  
“Then you saw and smelled how foul a creature it was and quickly learned the error of your ways.” He knows that probably didn’t happen, but Dorian can’t help but emphasize how he finds dogs.  
  
“Sort of. I was overwhelmed, and I realized Keeper was right. In the end,” Lavellan leans away, reaching for something near the bedpost. “Keeper gave me this. She said if I kept it close to where I slept, Fen’Harel and would keep away.” He has something in his hand, but he can’t see it well yet.  
  
Lavellan hands him the object, putting it in his palm. “This is...” He realizes it’s a carving of some sort. He realizes it’s a dog, which makes sense with the story he just heard. “Did you believe her?”  
  
“I wanted to believe her, and so I did. It was the first time Keeper gave me a gift that didn’t have to do with magic or training, so I was just happy to have it.” Lavellan closes Dorian’s palm, securing the wooden dog carving in his hand. “And now, I want you to have it, Dorian.”  
  
“You sound easier to-” He starts to speak, but realizes what Lavellan just said. “Wait, what? You want me to keep it?”  
  
“Yes.” It’s so blunt, so him in delivery, Dorian thinks.  
  
“Amatus, this is yours, something special to you. I can’t-” He knows Lavellan doesn’t have much stuff from his clan, let alone something sentimental like this.  
  
“I can, and I am.” He squeezes Dorian’s enclosed fist. “It’s yours now, Dorian. You’ll need it when you go back to Tevinter.” Ah, yes, going back to Tevinter. He’s mentioned that, but he’s been putting it off.  
  
“You could have given me something else, something-” He wishes he could phrase this better as he doesn’t want to sound rude (he already did that once).  
  
“Dorian, I thought we worked out the whole gift giving thing when I gave you back your amulet.” It seems Lavellan hasn’t forgotten the last time he gave Dorian a priceless gift.  
  
“This is different.” He’s too harsh with his words due to frustration. He only realizes this when he sees his lover’s reaction, rethinking things over. “I apologize. It seems I haven’t fully learned how to be graceful with you giving me gifts quite yet.”  
  
“A bit, but I know you’ll be safe in Tevinter if you keep it with you.” Lavellan is patient with him, so understanding. It’s moments like this that he really feels lucky to have someone, let alone a lover, like this. “Knowing you’ll be safe there, protected, that is a greater gift.”  
  
“So is this like a Dalish good luck charm?” He knows Lavellan keeps to the old ways -- not extremely religious, but he’s respectful of them and wants to preserve them.  
  
“Not quite, but there are plenty of tricksters in Tevinter from what I’ve gathered.” Now it’s Lavellan’s turn to laugh, their banter becoming friendly and playful once again.  
  
“Very true, and I’ll take all the help I can get.” Dorian caves in, accepting the gift as he smiles. If it means that much to Lavellan, he’ll take this wooden dog figure everywhere with him. “Fine, I’ll accept the gift. After all, it’s the least I can do after having you open up about your clan.” He tells him that excuse instead (he rather not embarrass himself with admitting such feelings currently).  
  
“Just wait until I can’t shut up about them.” Lavellan teases him, giving him a peck on the cheek.  
  
“I don’t think that will happen, and if it does, I’ll just start talking about Tevinter again.” Dorian pulls him closer, the both of them laughing and smiling.  
  
“Speaking of which, you promised to tell me about me about that dance with silk scarves that you mentioned at the Winter Palace.” Dorian swears as he hears that, Lavellan’s ears actually perk up.  
  
“I did, didn’t I? Well, it won’t be as funny since we’re not drunk, but I’ll try my best.” It seems the both of them will be spending the rest of the morning in bed together, and both of them don’t mind this at all.


End file.
